


why don't you figure my heart out

by magnetichearts



Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Banter, Bickering, Bonding, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fuck the Police, Teasing, anyways yeah it's a b99 au cause i have taste, as evidenced by the paramore playing, can i call it "to lovers" if they don't even kiss?, cause it just works too well for them, honestly i started this before the iliad was a thing, i had way too much fun writing this even though it took me like 2000 years, i'm literally listening to still into you by paramore as i type this up, jake is ben and devi is amy, like for real is that ok?, man lover is a lowkey cringey word, oh also acab like heavily, ok anyways b y e this is ridiculous, ok but that song is a bop, these tags have nothing to do with the fic dear god, who am i to judge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetichearts/pseuds/magnetichearts
Summary: “Losing that car,” Eleanor continues, “would be like, the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”“Thanks for the suggestion, Fab,” Ben groans.“Any time,” Fabiola says, raising her coffee cup.“Ok then,” Kamala interjects. She arches a perfect eyebrow. “What would be the worst thing that ever happened to Devi?”She knows, and she hops down from the table, stepping over to Ben, who leans back in his chair dangerously far, teetering on the edge of the two back legs. “Being one of those girls in Ben’s car.”His mouth curls up in the corner, and he’s totally unperturbed, and something—something weird coils in the pit of her stomach before she forces it down. “So it’s settled,” Kamala announces. “If Devi wins, she gets Ben’s car. If Ben wins, Devi goes for a date in said car.”or; ben and devi make a bet to see who can catch more criminals in a year. it does not end the way either of them thought it would(title from "heart out" by the 1975)
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	why don't you figure my heart out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flashlightinacave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashlightinacave/gifts).



> bitches it's me your favorite ho back from the grave that finals week put me into
> 
> anyways yeah this was like. 32 years in the making or smth idk i just knew it needed to be written and then my friends encouraged me and if you're asking "bhargavi if your friends encouraged you to jump off a cliff would you do it" and the answer is i'm a first-year in university who just went through finals week what do you think bitch
> 
> i take no responsibility for this lol just that this lowkey gave me an excuse to watch one of my favorite episodes of brooklyn nine-nine on repeat for research ✌️✌️
> 
> honestly if you don't read this listening to evermore who are you. esp gold rush. this has nothing to do with the fic i just feel the need to say this
> 
> oh yeah and good job for getting thru finals @ everyone who did! esp you leila now you can be so much less stressed about orgo!!! lmao this what not a coincidence babe consider this a consolation prize or something lolllll
> 
> on a more serious note i by no means condone the police in anyway and wholeheartedly support the BLM movement and think we need to abolish the police. brooklyn nine-nine and fictional representations of police are not at all representative of how police are in reality and i make no effort at saying these characters are anything close to that. real members of the police are actively participating in a system that's complicit in extreme and intense systemic racism and i make no excuses for them
> 
> so yeah just wanted to let you guys know now deal with this horrendous fic and if you find any typos or just hate it well....finals k bye ✌️

When Devi first walks into the precinct, she tries, she really does, to avoid looking at him, but she can’t help it, and then, before she knows it, her eyes have fallen on him and she is stalking over to him, on the warpath. 

Ben unfolds himself out of his chair easily, standing up as she steps in front of him, crossing her arms. Their eyes lock, and, for a second, she feels a bit thrown, a bit like a moth flying into the blue, blue flame of his eyes, before she collects herself and levels her coolest glare at him. 

“Gross.” 

“David.” 

Devi gnashes her teeth together, resisting the urge to reach out and wrap her hands around his neck, strangling him. She could do it with one hand, too, choke him. He’s weak. 

Ben smirks at her, hands on his hips. “The bet ends today. My condolences on your loss.” 

“We’re all tied up, Benjamin,” Devi grits out. “And the day’s not over yet.” 

“Hmm…” he hums, smirking at her.  _ God,  _ he is  _ such _ an irritating jackass. “We’ll see about that.” 

Devi steps closer, poking her finger at his chest. “I’m winning this bet, Gross. There’s nothing you can do to change that.” 

His blue eyes flash. “I’m not going down that easily either, David.” 

She smirks. “Good. It wouldn’t be as much fun if you didn’t fight back while I completely and utterly crushed you.” 

“Wow,” Ben drawls, going to sit at his desk again, crossing one leg over the other. Devi drops her purse at her desk and flops into her chair, pulling out one of her pens. He grins at her across from their desks—desks they have sat at for six years now—desks where they have been partners and pored over case files and fought over the last spring roll for, desks that hold the whole of their tangled history. 

Devi will never admit this to Ben, but this desk might just be her favorite place in the world—least of all because of her irritating partner. “Have a little faith in me, David, won’t you?” He grins at her, teeth catching in the light, and she wrinkles her nose. “Getting too cocky might just be your downfall, huh? So sure you can win this bet?” 

“The bet?” Rebecca says, groaning as she leans against her desk, sipping her coffee. As Captain Grubbs’ assistant, and the civilian administrator for the precinct, her job consisted mostly of checking her hair in the reflection of her mirror and dropping scathing remarks about Devi’s wardrobe. “You guys are still on that?” 

Devi furrows her brows. “We’ve been on that for a year, Becca.” 

“A year? It’s been that long?” 

Ben’s eyes lock with hers, and he grins as she remembers what exactly got them to this point.

* * *

_ “I’m the better detective, Gross. You’re just gonna have to accept that.” She leans back against the table in the briefing room, crossing her arms. “The numbers speak for themselves.” _

_ Ben scowls at her. “Just because you’ve made more felony arrests in the past month doesn’t mean you’re the better detective. I’ve made more arrests in total.”  _

_ “Doesn’t count,” she counters easily, tossing her hair behind her shoulder, hopping up onto the table. “You’ve been a cop for longer than me.”  _

_ “And you’re the same level,” Fabiola points out. She levels a raised eyebrow at Ben. “Maybe Devi is a better detective than you.”  _

_ “Hold on,” Eleanor interjects, having finally pulled herself away from her Broadway videos. The pink headscarf she’s wearing flutters as she shakes her head. “That’s not fair either. They’re the same age. Devi just entered the academy later than him.”  _

_ Devi gapes at her friend. “Et tu, El?”  _

_ Eleanor shrugs. “Sorry, babe, just trying to be fair.”  _

_ “Ok, ok,” Kamala says, crossing her arms. Devi looks at her cousin, who’s got her arms crossed and is leaning against the whiteboard. “How are you gonna settle this?” _

_ Devi looks at Ben, as an idea comes to her. “A bet.”  _

_ He leans forward on his elbows, smirking at her. “Go on, David.”  _

_ Devi flips him off before continuing. “We start today. Whoever makes more felony arrests in a year wins.”  _

_ Ben nods, steepling his hands together to make himself look more pensieve, the jackass. “Wins what?”  _

_ Devi scowls at him. “Don’t say money, because I know you’re doing fine on that front—” _

_ “If you really knew me, you would have said loaded, David.” Ben arches an eyebrow. “And it doesn’t really matter to me, because there is no way on God’s green earth that I’m losing to you.”  _

_ “God is a woman, Gross, and she wants me to win.”  _

_ “What about your car?” Fabiola suggests, and Devi revels in the slightly horrified look that crosses Ben’s face.  _

_ “Yes,” she decides. “We’ll bet your car.”  _

_ “Shit,” he swears.  _

_ Eleanor smirks. “Say goodbye to your chick magnet, Ben.”  _

_ Devi grins as he pales even more. For some reason, Ben’s beat up, classic car—which really didn’t even make any sense, considering Devi knew he was loaded—was the thing he always seemed to pick up dates in.  _

_ It was frustrating when her ass of a partner had more of a romantic life than she did, but she reassures herself it is because she’s actually looking for someone lasting. “Losing that car,” Eleanor continues, “would be like, the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.”  _

_ “Thanks for the suggestion, Fab,” Ben groans.  _

_ “Any time,” Fabiola says, raising her coffee cup.  _

_ “Ok then,” Kamala interjects. She arches a perfect eyebrow. “What would be the worst thing that ever happened to Devi?”  _

_ She knows, and she hops down from the table, stepping over to Ben, who leans back in his chair dangerously far, teetering on the edge of the two back legs. “Being one of those girls in Ben’s car.”  _

_ His mouth curls up in the corner, and he’s totally unperturbed, and something—something weird coils in the pit of her stomach before she forces it down. “So it’s settled,” Kamala announces. “If Devi wins, she gets Ben’s car. If Ben wins, Devi goes for a date in said car.”  _

_ Ben pushes himself back from the table, standing up, and holds his hand out. “You’re on, David.”  _

_ She smacks her hand against his and shakes it, wincing a bit at how tight his grip is. “Wow, your handshake is fucking firm.”  _

_ “I took a seminar,” he smirks. _

_ “Fucking where?” she says, completely baffled, before she collects herself. “It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna cry when you lose.”  _

* * *

“Oh,” Rebecca says, groaning. Devi would bet her 401(k) that she didn’t remember anything about the bet until just now. “See, normal people like me don’t do that. We just go home and see our boyfriends.” 

Devi scowls at her. “Stop rubbing your perfect relationship with Cameron in all of our faces.” 

Rebecca shrugs. “Not my fault I found the one decent man on the planet and scooped him up.” 

“It kinda is though,” Devi grumbles.

“Anyways,” Ben bites out. “It’s been a year.” 

“And the bet is ending today,” she finishes for him. “With the score all tied up.” 

(she has never really let herself think about it before—what would happen if she lost—because if she thinks about it then it is a possibility, and if she ignores it and just keeps trying to beat him, then that is what will happen. she’s not even going to  _ entertain _ the thought of losing to ben)

Ben just smirks, leaning forward. He picks up a pen and flicks it across his fingers, the motion hypnotic, although Devi forces herself to keep her eyes on his. “Don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched, David.” 

“No one uses that fucking phrase anymore, Gross, it’s the 21st century. Please get with the goddamn times.” 

Ben scowls at her. “Criticizing everything I do, David? Low blow, I expected you to do better than that.” 

Devi just flips him off. “If I’m gonna beat you today, I’m gonna need more coffee,” she groans, and then she gets up, ignoring the nerves twanging in the pit of her stomach as she watches the clock count down. 

* * *

Ben steps into the break room two hours later, humming to himself. He can’t help the slight shock of victory that shoots up his spine when he sees Devi in the break room, and she stiffens as he steps in, shooting him a dark look. 

“Don’t be so jumpy, David. You’re never gonna beat me if you can’t play it cool.” 

Devi nearly slams the lid on her coffee cup, and Ben takes a step back, leaning back against the wood of the desk, crossing one leg over the other as he watches her sip her coffee, almost viciously. Her lip curls as she takes another sip. 

“Why don’t you drink hot chocolate?” 

Devi blinks at his question, looking a bit shocked. “What?” 

He nods towards the cup. “You hate coffee. You prefer hot chocolate.” 

She frowns. “How do you know that?” 

Ben smirks at her, enjoying the way her cheeks flush, just a bit. “Come on, David. We’ve been partners for six years. Even you can’t admit I’m  _ that _ bad of a detective.” 

“You’re a terrible detective,” she lobbies back, dry, before taking another sip. “And to answer your question, Gross, it’s because hot chocolate doesn’t have caffeine. I need that.” 

“Never thought you would be the one to take performance-enhancing drugs, David,” he drawls, pushing himself up off the door jamb and walking over to her, pouring himself a cup and ripping open his own packet of sugar to dump in the cup. “Can’t beat me on your own?” 

“Watch it, Gross,” she says, mildly threatening, but when he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lips are upturned in a smile. “This coffee’s hot, and I’m increasingly tempted to dump it over your head.” 

She backs away then as he puts his own lid on the coffee cup, and before she walks away, he turns around and takes a quick sip of coffee. “You know,” he says, stopping her in her tracks. “You can call me Ben.” 

He can see her shoulders tense, and then she turns around, pastel purple chipped nails tapping at the coffee cup. “What?” 

“You don’t call me that. Ben, I mean.” 

Devi smirks, mirroring his pose by leaning against the door. “Why the sudden change in heart, Gross? Trying to get me to go soft on you before you inevitably realize that you’re going to lose?” 

“No. Just—why don’t you?” 

She tilts her head to the side, dark eyes clouding with confusion. “Don’t what?” 

“Call me by my actual name.” 

Devi arches an eyebrow, and her lips curve into a smile. He feels it knock against his ribcage, just the slightest bit, like it has been doing for the past four months—and with increasing frequency. “Do you do the same to me?” 

“Should I start?”

Devi steps forward, closer to him, and pats his shoulder mockingly. He can smell her perfume, light, and floral, jasmine lingering on the curve of her collarbone, and for a split second he wonders what it would be like to slot his hands at her hips before he pushes that thought away, nearly choking on his coffee. 

“It’s been six years, Gross. I don’t think things are gonna change now.” 

“I don’t know, David,” he smirks. “A lot can happen in one night.” 

Devi blushes then, but he’s sure she is unaware of it. Ben pushes aside those—confusing as fuck feelings—resisting the urge to reach out and touch her cheek. 

(what the fuck is going  _ on _ with him? he’s acting like he’s thirteen, not thirty-three! he thought he was over feeling this way when he graduated high school except now he’s here all over again and he is noticing just how distractingly pretty his partner is and—) 

“Don’t get cocky, Ben.” 

He relishes in that, the way his name falls from her lips. She barely says it, even after six years, but the thing is with Devi he knows her, knows her because they have saved each other’s lives and have worked with each other day in and day out. 

“That’s like, the entire point of this. You know I’m gonna win. Might as well give up now.” 

She laughs, then, bright and clear. “I can’t  _ wait _ to drive your car into the lake tonight, Gross.” 

He feels the smile slide off his face as she walks out of the room. “Lake? What lake? David! We’re in the city, what fucking  _ lake?” _

* * *

“Attention.” 

Devi swirls around in her chair to see Captain Grubbs standing in the bullpen, hands collapsed behind her back. A bit unconsciously, she straightens, making sure her suit isn’t covered in like, lint or something. 

“I’d like everyone to join me tonight at  _ Oaks _ for drinks, to celebrate Fabiola and her excellent work on the Ritz case.” 

“I didn’t really do anything,” Fabiola mutters. 

“Yeah,” Rebecca agrees. “It was the robot, Gears Brosnan. He’s a goddamn hero.” 

“Agreed,” Grubbs says, sharply. “See you all at 2000 hours tonight.” 

Ben turns back to her, tapping his pen on the desk. His eyes narrow, and Devi’s up and out of her chair before she even knows what she is doing. 

Ben rushes after her, but she sticks her leg out and trips him, rushing into Grubbs’ office and slamming the door behind her before he can move. 

“Tweedle-dum,” Grubbs says, not even looking up from her paperwork. 

Devi swallows, her throat suddenly a bit dry. “H—hi, Captain. You’re looking great today. You know, that blouse you’re wearing really pairs well with—” 

“Can it, Devi.” Grubbs sets her pen down and laces her fingers together, arching an eyebrow. “I’m aware that today is the culmination of your—ridiculous bet with Ben. You’re out of luck, because I’m not giving you any more cases just so you can win.” 

_ “Whaaaaaat?” _ Devi sings, trying to play it cool. “Nah, man. That’s not what I’m here for. Bet, what bet? Unless you’re talking about that super cool bet I made with some other cops about who had the best captain, in which case I think I totally w—” 

“That’s enough, Vishwakumar.” 

“Right.” She winces. 

Grubbs leans back in her chair, scanning Devi carefully. “While I don’t condone this idiotic and frankly, juvenile competition of yours in any way, it has lead to you and Gross putting in more hours and collaring more criminals this week.” 

Devi flushes under the praise. “Thank you, Captain.” 

She thinks she sees the hint of a smile on Grubbs’ face before her captain waves her hand. “You’re dismissed. I don’t want to hear anything else about this.” 

Devi slinks away, sticking her tongue out at Ben as she opens Grubbs’ door. He makes a face back at her, and, well, she can’t help the slight thrill of victory that shoots down her spine when she hears a resounding “No” from behind her, and then, a door slamming shut. 

She grabs her gun and puts it in her holster, headed out of the precinct, determined to win. 

There is  _ no way _ she is going on a date with her partner. She would rather crawl over broken glass and then take a bath in rubbing alcohol. 

Which is why, when she rushes into the precinct at 5:59 pm, a perp clutched in her hand, she knows she’s going to win. 

“Suck it, Gross,” she crows, marching the perp over and shoving him into lockup. “Here’s John Alexander, arrested for counterfeiting. Vishwakumar takes the lead, with one minute left.”

She smirks, breathing heavily as she glances down at her watch. “Eat your heart out.” 

“Oh, no.” 

“That’s right, oh n—wait.” She breaks off, a growing feeling of dread pooling in the pit of her stomach at the cavalier grin crossing Ben’s face. “Why—why are you saying oh no?” 

Ben pushes himself to his feet and saunters over to her, a smug smirk crossing his face, and she wants nothing more than to grab the stupid tie around his neck and  _ strangle _ him with it. “I ran a prostitution ring through vice, and arrested nine of the johns for solicitation.” 

Devi latches onto her one last hope. “That’s not a felony.” 

The grin on Ben’s face grows wider, and she knows she is done for, but she can’t quite bring herself to admit it. “It is if it’s a second offense, which is the case for five of these lovely gentlemen.” 

She swears underneath her breath. “Oh, fucking hell, no.” 

Ben lifts his wrist, glancing at his watch, shiny and ostentatious and god, she wants to chuck it at his head. “And five, four, three, two, one.” 

“Oh fucking god,” Devi groans, tipping her head back. She can’t believe she  _ lost. _

(and now she’s going to have to go on a  _ date _ with her partner, and god, this is just going to make things unbearably awkward between them, isn’t it? she did not really let herself think about this but now she’s letting her partner take her out and it is going to make things  _ weird. _ and she can’t let things become weird with ben—because he’s  _ ben. _ he is her partner, and she trusts him with her life, and if they do this then this whole thing—their whole thing—is going to be jeopardized) 

Ben presses a button on a boombox, and “We Are the Champions” starts playing, and she is  _ literally _ going to kill him. “Even though you’re a loser, David,” he calls, over the music, “I thought this song would be appropriate. After all, you  _ do _ get to go on a date with me, so you are really winning.” 

“No,” she says again, unable to form any other thoughts. “Please.” 

“Devi Vishwakumar,” Ben says, dropping to his knee in the middle of the bullpen, and Devi is  _ well _ aware that the whole fucking precinct is watching them right now, and that he’s only doing this to embarrass her, “will you go on the worst date ever with me? I know I’m asking, but you have to say yes.” 

She grumbles, refusing to look him in the eyes, and pushes her hair out of her face. “Yes.” 

“Atta girl,” Ben says, shooting her a ridiculous wink, before he gets up, tossing the ring at her and catching Eleanor as she does a ridiculous spin.

Devi fumbles with the plastic ring. She is not making it through tonight with her dignity intact, huh? 

* * *

She swears, the next time she sees Ben (which, if she checks her clock—pushing it back so it presses firmly against the wall instead of slightly tilted—is going to be in the next five minutes) she is going to murder him. 

The dress she’s wearing—that he had handed to her with a ridiculous, over-the-top wink as she left the precinct, telling her to be ready at 7:30—is all red frills and white lace and she is  _ genuinely going to kill him. _

Fucking Ben Gross. What did she ever do to deserve this? 

Devi groans softly, tipping her head up at the ceiling. “Are you there, God?” she whines, slightly. “It’s me, Devi. Could we just like—lowkey overlook the silent act that I’ve been giving you for the past few years for a hot second? Please get me out of this.” 

God, unfortunately, is a dick and doesn’t respond to her, and just then, Devi hears a honk. “David! Come on, we’re gonna be late!” 

Devi growls, stalking over to her door and sticking her head out. “Gross, you’re a fucking jackass. This dress is absolutely ridiculous. I look like a bloody creampuff.” 

“Chop chop, sweetums,” Ben drawls mockingly, pushing himself up out of his car. She can just see his head from here. “Come on, let me see it.” 

Cursing him to the tenth circle of hell, Devi steps out of her apartment and holds her arms out, turning around in a circle. “Happy?” she says. 

“Very,” Ben grins, coming around the edge of his—fucking  _ beautiful _ car. Devi feels her heart jump in her chest when she catches sight of him, dressed in a black suit, shockingly blue tie pressed against his chest. He smirks at her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You look like every girl at a bar mitzvah who had a crush on me.” 

“A little full of yourself there, huh Gross?” Devi says, making her way down her apartment steps  _ carefully, _ teetering on the high heels Ben had made her wear. 

“Careful there, Vishwakumar,” he drawls. “Don’t strain yourself.” 

Devi flips him off without even taking her eyes off of her feet. “You’re the one who dressed me up in this ridiculous outfit, jackass. You are aware everyone’s gonna be staring at us the whole night.” 

“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of the whole point.” 

“I will genuinely take these stilettos off and stab you with them,” she deadpans. 

Ben just waggles his eyebrows at her. “Kinky.” 

Devi snorts, tossing her hair behind her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. “You wish.” 

She takes another step towards his car, but misjudges it, and her ankle crumples underneath her like paper, the ground rushing towards her line of vision before she finds nose smacking into something else. 

Ben’s shoulder. “Ow,” she winces, pulling back, her eyes watering. “What the fuck?” 

Devi rubs at her nose, biting back a cry of pain, and looks up to see Ben’s eyes right there.

(are they even bluer this close up? how had she missed how piercing they were, how luminous? she’s been partners with him for six years, and never before have they been this stunning to her. how had she missed it?) 

“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” Ben says wryly, gently pushing her away from him. 

Devi sucks in a breath as his hands—rough, and calloused, but  _ why? _ it scares her how much she wants to know the reason—settle on her shoulders, as she realigns herself. “You didn’t need to do that, Gross. I was perfectly fine on my own.” 

Ben barks out a laugh, and unbidden, Devi finds her own lips turning up into a smile. “Ok, sure, David,” he says. He reaches out and opens the door for her, and she blinks, a little shocked at the ease of his hospitality. Even if this date is fake, she can’t remember the last guy who had done that for her. “I’m sure that chipped tooth would have gotten all of the guys.” 

Devi shoots him a wink of her own. “Everything looks good on me.” 

Ben glances at her, a faint pink flush spreading up his neck as he turns on the car. “Unfortunately, yeah, you’re not wrong.”

Her grin broadens. “Sweet-talking me? And here I thought you promised embarrassment, Gross.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Ben says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel as he pulls away from the curb, towards  _ Oaks. _ “I promised, and I shall deliver.”

“I’m so excited.” 

He grins at her as he flicks on his blinker, shifting lanes. The leather of the car sticks to her thighs, but it smells good. 

It smells like him, she thinks, faintly, before she banishes that thought from her mind. “You in the habit of keeping your promises, Benjamin?”

“Don’t make any I can’t keep, David,” he smirks, flicking on the radio. Taylor Swift blares from the speakers, and Devi stifles a grin as he smacks the dial, quickly changing the station. 

“A big fan, are we?” 

“Hey.” He stops at a stop sign and jabs his finger at her. “She is an  _ artist.” _

“Oh, I know,” she smirks. “And if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t judge.” 

“But?” 

“But it’s you.” She leans over and pats his arm mockingly, ignoring how firm it is beneath her touch. “I  _ have _ to make fun of you. I’m your partner.” 

Ben huffs a laugh, glancing over at her. His smile pools in the pit of her stomach, warm and soft and gentle. Like the slow slide of hot chocolate down her throat on a cold winter morning. “We’ve been partners for six years, David. Haven’t you gotten tired of that yet?” 

“No.” 

Ben glances at her, blue eyes almost gray with the yellow streetlights shining on him. “Not tired of me yet?” 

(no. she is not. she doesn’t think she ever will be) 

Devi laughs it off, deflects, like she always does. “I haven’t gotten tired of making  _ fun _ of you yet, Gross. You make it too easy.” 

“Damn, really?”

“Oh yeah. You just have one of those faces.” 

Shaking his head, Ben’s mouth curls up in a smile, almost wistful, and she feels her heart pickup speed in her chest, like she’s about to take off in an airplane. “Six years,” he murmurs, “and you haven’t changed a bit.” 

Devi swallows, suddenly aware of how low and soft his voice is. “That a bad thing?”

His eyes flicker over to her. “No. Never.” 

Her breath catches in her throat, solidifying, and suddenly she wonders what it would be like to lean forward and trail her fingers across the curve of his cheek, to brush her thumb underneath the dip of his eye and the jut of his nose, to press her palm against his jaw and look into his wickedly blue eyes. 

(literally, what the fuck? where are these thoughts coming from?) 

Whatever spell he has managed to cast on her vanishes when he pulls into the parking lot of  _ Oaks _ and turns the engine of the car off, facing her. “We’re here.” 

She shocks herself out of her own mind and pulls herself back to the present. “Right. Bring it on, Gross.” 

He smirks. “Ready?” 

Devi sighs, curling her hand around the door handle, accepting her fate. “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

* * *

“Hey! Mazel tov!” Eleanor shouts, raising her glass. 

Ben gives her a strange look. “What?” he says, baffled. 

“You two finally made it here,” Fabiola drawls, drawing something in the condensation on her glass. Ben recognizes it as the chemical formula for alcohol, before her thumb swipes over it and the drawing vanishes. “We thought you got lost sucking face.” 

“Or getting lucky,” Eleanor says, winking dramatically.

Devi’s face flushes red, matching her dress—which looks  _ stupidly _ good on her, by the way, and it’s ridiculously unfair because she is supposed to look  _ bad _ in it, not really pretty with hair that he wants to run his hands through tumbling down her back and—

“Wait, what?” He pulls himself out of his thoughts, narrowing his eyes at Eleanor. “El, are you ok?” 

“She’s had like, four drinks,” Fabiola says, tossing back the rest of her drink. She holds out her arm to Eleanor, who clumsily loops her own arm around it. “I’m gonna get her some water.” 

Ben holds out his own arm to Devi, who looks at it like it’s a dead cockroach, before her gaze flicks up to his face. “Shall we, my lady?” 

“I fucking hate your guts,” she mutters, as she tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and lets him drag her to the bar. “You better be paying for tonight, by the way.” 

“Please,” he snorts. “I’m many things, David, but I’m not cheap.” 

Devi flags down the bartender. “So, I can drink myself under the table?” 

“But then you’d miss all this!” Ben exclaims, gesturing to himself. “Would you really be ok with that? For a vision such as me to vanish from your memory?” 

Devi accepts her glass of rose and flickers her eyes over him. “Oh no, never,” she drawls, taking a sip. 

Ben props his elbow up on the bar and sips his Blue Moon—and he has never really gotten used to the taste of beer, but it’s what most people in New York drink, so whatever—grinning at her. He wags his eyebrows. “Always knew you had a crush on me, David.” 

“Wishful thinking, Benjamin.” 

“I’m not hearing a denial.” 

Devi throws her head back and laughs, and his gaze drops to the smooth curve of her throat for a split second before he drags it up to her face, focusing on her lips—which she has painted red, to match the dress he made her wear, even though he hadn’t asked her to do that—before he realizes he is staring way too conspicuously and drags his gaze away, to the wood of the bar. “You’re ridiculous,” she sighs, voice shaking with laughter. “Give it a rest, Ben. I’m gonna start to think all this flirting is sincere.” 

Ben gives her an ostentatious wink—slightly out of character to him, but the blush that spills down Devi’s neck makes it worth it—and curls his hands slightly tighter around his beer bottle so he doesn’t do something stupid, like reach out and brush that strand of hair behind her ear. “Isn’t that the whole point?” 

Devi snorts, running her finger around the rim of her wine glass before taking another sip. “Desperate, Benjamin?” 

He blinks, suddenly confused. “Uh, what?”

“You keep hitting on me,” she says, raising a dark eyebrow. He is drawn to them—and then to her eyes, expressive and deep and dancing with mirth. “While I’m dressed like a reject extra from a Disney Channel Original Movie. You must be really desperate for female interaction if you’re stooping to flirt with me, your  _ partner.” _

“I think you look beautiful,” he blurts out, before reddening and taking a swig of his drink to shut him up. 

Devi blinks, slightly shocked, before the corner of her mouth curls up in a heart-stopping, small smile. “Nice to see you’ve learned a little bit,” she teases. “Girls do like it when you call them pretty, yes.” She pats his chest mockingly, pushing herself up off the wood of the bar. “I’m gonna find Rebecca.” 

“Five minutes of a break,” he drawls, pretending to look at his watch. “I’ll be waiting here.” 

She doesn’t even deign him with a response—well, besides flipping him off—and he bites his lip to stifle the smile that pulls at his mouth. 

(this is  _ so _ stupid. and ok, ben is not  _ blind, _ he knows his partner is very pretty,  _ has _ known it for years. but before it had always like, laid in the back of his mind. like—the knowledge that his parents knew drake or were not really that great—something he knew but didn’t really  _ know, _ didn’t really let himself dwell on. but now this new information is crowding his brain and he can’t really figure out where to slot it so he can ignore it, so his heart explodes like a volcano in his chest, and the warmth spills into his veins like magma) 

He swears, and takes another sip, resisting the urge to get drunk. He’s got to embarrass her tonight anyways. He is still basking in the glory of victory. And to be honest, to see her playing along—it’s more fun than he thought it would be. 

Ben sighs, shucking his suit jacket onto the cover of the bar—wincing slightly when he thinks about what’s on there—before pulling at his throat, loosening his tie, sucking air down his windpipe and drumming his fingers on the bar. 

He sits there for a few minutes, and just as he’s about to pull out his phone and text Devi, asking where she is, he feels a tap on his shoulder. 

Frowning, he turns around to find a giggling guy. He flashes him a polite, if slightly confused smile. “Hi. Can I help you?” 

The guy just laughs. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I think I’m just a little bit drunk.” The guy holds out his fingers, putting them just a hair apart from one another, although Ben can clearly see he’s far drunker than that. 

But the dude’s standing right in front of him and clearly not hurting anyone, and he’s off duty for the night, so Ben just nods. “Right.” 

“Anyways,” the drunk guy says, “I’m over there with my friends.” He points, and Ben can see a bunch of people around a table, watching them with interest. One of the girls has a sash wrapped around her that says  _ Bride _ and a crown perched on her hair. “And we just saw you over here and I mentioned I thought you were super cute, so I thought I’d take my chances.” 

Ben blinks, his mouth dropping open. “Oh. Oh, I mean, I’m really flattered, but—” 

“But he’s already got a date,” Devi says smoothly, materializing and slotting herself into his side. She slides her hand around his waist and flashes the guy a kind smile. “But I do have to say you’ve got good taste.” 

Ben chokes on nothing, but Devi doesn’t seem to notice, still smiling serenely at the guy. 

“Nah,” the guy says, still clearly a bit drunk but smiling at them. “It’s cool. Have a good night.” He gives Ben a sloppy wink before stumbling back to his friends, and as Ben turns away from them, he can hear the table erupt in laughter. 

“I don’t know if I should or shouldn’t be insulted that he didn't mention my choice of dress,” Devi muses. “How drunk did he seem to you?” 

Ben just gapes at her. She’s still lowkey like, pressed into his side, and she smells even better than she does at work—all floral and light and potent at the same time, and he kind of wants to tuck his nose into her collarbone and just breathe her in, slowly. “What?” 

Devi frowns, reaching for his beer bottle and taking a sip, before her face contorts, disgusted. “I don’t know how you drink that,” she says. “And I’m talking about the dude, Benjamin. Clearly he didn’t see anything wrong with the ridiculous outfit I’m squeezed into. You think that was just because he was drunk?” 

He blinks at her, and then huffs a laugh. “Probably. But you’re not drunk, are you?” he says, leveling her with a steady gaze. 

She stiffens against his side, and side-eyes him. “What do you mean?” 

Ben smirks at her, resisting the urge to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her into him. It is strange, because in her heels and with him on the stool, he notes she is at the exact right height to rest her head on his shoulder—and these are exactly the type of things he should  _ not _ be noticing about his partner right now. “You said he had good taste. What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Devi scowls at him, and he props his chin up on his elbow, grinning at her. “Shut the fuck up, Ben. I just said that so he wouldn’t feel bad about hitting on you.” 

Ben raises his eyebrows. “So you  _ don’t _ think I’m attractive? Or funny to be around?” 

Devi frowns at him. “Don’t go fishing for compliments, Gross. Makes you look desperate.” 

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, smirking. “I want to know what you meant.” 

“Oh, shut up,” she groans. 

Ben just stares at her. “Come on, David,” he wheedles. 

Devi stares back. She is the most stubborn person he has ever met—besides himself—and sometimes he knows he can’t get her to break. 

But she’ll break this time. He’s sure of it. 

They stand there, staring at each other for what feels like forever before she lets a singular sigh slip, wrenching her eyes away from his. “Just that. You’re not the  _ worst _ looking person in the bar he could have chosen to hit on.” 

Ben quirks a brow, a grin spreading over his face. “So you think I’m hot?” 

If looks could kill, the look Devi is giving him would have him twelve feet under. “Don’t get a big head.” 

“Mmm,” he hums. “That’s not gonna happen, now that I know you think I’m hot.” 

“Jesus fucking christ,” she mutters. “I don’t think you’re  _ hideous, _ but you get hot out of that?” 

“Frankly, David, since you once called me the spawn of Satan and Frankenstein—the doctor—I’m taking whatever compliments I can get from you.” 

Unexpectedly, she laughs. “Fair enough.” 

He smiles at her, shoulders relaxing. “Well, I hope you’re ready for the rest of the night.”

Devi sighs, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m gonna go fortify myself with some food before we leave. See you in a bit.” 

Ben watches her go, and in the corner of his eye, he sees someone slide into his seat at the right. Turning, he sees it’s Eleanor. 

“Hey El,” he says, smiling at her. 

Eleanor just blinks at her, pursing her lips. “Benjamin,” she says. 

Shit. She only calls him Benjamin when she’s mad at him. 

“Yes?” he says, hesitantly. 

Eleanor drums her fingers on the wood of the bar. “Do you know what you’re doing?” 

Ok, what kind of interrogation is this? “Um. Yeah. I’m taking Devi on the worst date ever.” 

She cocks her head to the side, scanning him thoughtfully. “Right.” Eleanor smirks, shaking her head like she’s in on some secret about him he’s not privy to. 

“What? Come on, El,” he demands. 

“Ben,” Eleanor says thoughtfully, steepling her hands together. “Do you know why little boys pull little girls’ pigtails on the playground?” 

Ben furrows his brow. “They’re begging to be pulled. Come on, they’re so shiny. What kind of question is that?” 

Eleanor smirks. “It’s because they like the little girls, and they don’t know how else to get their attention.” 

He just blinks at her, feeling a pit drop into his stomach. “What are you saying?” 

Eleanor rolls her eyes. “Oh, come  _ on, _ Ben. All of this shit?” She waves her hand around the bar, gesturing to his outfit as well. “Going all out to embarrass Devi? Teasing her more than usual? You’re doing this because you want her to notice you.” 

Ben scoffs, an uneasy feeling creeping down his spine. “Please, El. Devi’s my partner. She sits across from me. If I want her to notice me, I just need to throw a paper ball at her head.” 

“I meant notice you outside of work,” Eleanor presses. She pokes Ben in the chest,  _ hard, _ and he winces. “Somewhere, deep deep down, you like Devi. Like,  _ like like _ her.” 

“Like like her?” Ben repeats, slightly disgusted with Eleanor’s choice in words. “We’re not in eighth grade, El. I don’t  _ like like _ Devi.” 

Eleanor snorts. “Please. Fine. You’re crazy about her. Better?” 

“No!” he protests. “What are you even talking about?” 

“Oh, please, Benjamin.” Eleanor crosses her legs and flags down the bartender, giving him a slightly tipsy wink. She orders a Cosmo, and Ben watches her, still shocked at her words. 

Eleanor sucks her drink through the straw, cheeks hollowing, made pink by the blush dusted over her cheeks, and she sets her drink down on the bar, pastel pink fingertips—slightly chipped—clacking against the lacquer. “You might think you’ve got everyone else fooled, Ben, but you’re so obvious about it.  _ Everyone _ knows.” 

“Ev—everyone?” he stammers. 

Eleanor considers this, tossing her head back and forth. “Ok, maybe not everyone. Devi doesn’t, but that’s because she’s ridiculously stupid and oblivious.” 

Ben’s mouth drops open. “W—what?” 

Eleanor’s hand curls around her drink, and she hops off of her stool. “Let me know when you figure it out, Benjamin.” She drops another wink. “We can talk about wooing her then.” 

“I don’t want to woo her!” he protests, but by then, Eleanor has disappeared into the crowd. 

Ben groans, and runs his hand through his hair, resisting the urge to faceplant on the bar. 

(god, what the fuck has he gotten himself into? and what—what are these feelings, coiling up inside of him like he’s a teenager? he’s supposed to have a handle on this shit by now) 

He just sighs, and orders another beer, trying not to let Eleanor’s words swirl around in his mind. 

They’re going to drive him to distraction, but they shouldn’t. Because she’s wrong. She is. He’s sure of it. 

* * *

Devi sighs, rubbing her shoulders, trying to ease out a muscle. She sighs in relief as she stretches, then looks up to find Fabiola and Kamala staring at her. 

“What?”

“You’re…….different,” Kamala says. 

“Uh…...thanks?” 

“Not like that.” Kamala tilts her head to the side. “I just honestly never expected to see you here.” 

“You know me,” Devi says easily. “I never miss a good party.” 

“Not that,” Fabiola interjects. “Here—dressed like that.” 

Devi looks down at herself, her nose wrinkling. “Yeah, it’s a disgusting dress. I kind of hate it.” 

“No, I mean—” Fabiola breaks off, looking slightly hesitant. “I just mean I never really expected to  _ see  _ you here. I thought you wouldn’t come.” 

Devi snorts, rolling her eyes. “And let Ben win? Never.” 

Kamala smirks. “Are you sure that’s not the only reason?” 

She blinks at her cousin. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“You didn’t come for any other reason? Just so that Ben couldn’t embarrass you?” 

“He won the bet and he’s  _ already _ gonna be insufferable about it. I’m trying to limit how much I want him to shut his stupid mouth,” she defends. 

Fabiola nods, clearly unconvinced. “And there’s  _ no _ other reason?” 

Devi’s patience, already fraught, snaps. “Can you both please just stop dancing the fuck around whatever you want to say to me? Spit it out.” 

“Devi,” Kamala hums. “Have you ever considered the prospect that you might…..have feelings for Ben?” 

She splutters, before recovering. “Feelings? Yeah, I have a lot of feelings towards Ben. Irritation, annoyance, frustration, the occasional dose of disgust, do you need me to go on?” 

Fabiola smiles. “You certainly haven’t acted like it all night.” 

“The very notion that—that I could feel something for  _ Ben _ is ridiculous,” she scoffs. 

“I don’t know about that, Devi.” Kamala nods her head towards him. “You’ve been laughing and smiling with him the whole night.” 

Like she’s possessed by some fucking ghost or something, Devi finds her gaze turning to Ben, who’s chatting with Rebecca now. She can’t see the striking blue of his eyes, but the light plays on his face, casting shadows over it beautifully, sharpening the angles of his face. 

(it’s unfair, how it hits her now that ben is beautiful, the same way the sea is beautiful—enticing on his own, but magnetic the longer she looks at him. she feels a bit like she is tumbling down the rabbit hole whenever she looks at him, feels a bit like she could get lost watching the way his hands move or the curve of his lips, feels a bit unsteady whenever she looks into his eyes) 

She swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “So he’s occasionally funny. Doesn’t mean we’re gonna get married.” 

“The whole night, Devi. You’ve barely even left his side.” 

“That’s the terms of the bet,” she murmurs. From here, she can see his mouth quirk up into a smile, and it punches her in the gut. 

(she has taken bullets before—the very definition of an occupational hazard—but ben’s smile is something different. something more potent, more dangerous. more destructive. she feels it tear through her body like a bullet would, painfully sharp and quick, overwhelming her senses before she can think of anything else. it is sharp and treacherous, like standing on the edge of a cliff. and sometimes, she is overcome with the desire to jump) 

Devi presses her lips together, pulling her gaze away from him and the shift of his shoulders, the way she thinks she can  _ just _ catch the strains of his laughter from across the room, and turns back to her friends. “Nothing is going on between us,” she says, stubbornly. 

“Hmm,” Kamala laughs. “Alright then. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, though. You’ve stopped complaining about him every twenty seconds.” 

Devi scowls at her. “Just because I’ve learned how to tolerate him doesn’t mean that I’m in love with him.” 

“Whoa!” Fabiola says. “Who said anything about love?” She leans forward, smirking. “Unless you’ve got something you haven’t told us.” 

She sneers at her friend and raises her hand up to flip her off, but before she can say anything, Devi feels a hand press against her back.

“Hey,” Ben murmurs, quiet. Her pulse skyrockets, heart hammering away like she’s just finished running a marathon. “Grubbs wants us. Duty calls.” 

Devi breathes out. “Oh, thank god,” she sighs, grateful to get out of this dress and away from the conspiratorial glances between her friends. She shoots them a dirty look and follows Ben, determined to throw herself into her work so she can push their words out of her mind. 

* * *

“Finally,” Devi mutters, shifting in her seat. She pulls the binoculars up to her face, squinting through them. “I think that dress was like, 32% taffeta.” 

Ben laughs and looks over at her, noticing how easily she melts into the fabric of his car. “Probably,” he agrees. 

Devi pulls the binoculars away from her face and smiles at him. “You know, at least criminals pick great places to pull their shadowy business.” 

They’re parked on a side street and from here, Ben can just hear the waves crash against the beach. “Long Beach is kinda nice.” 

Devi wrinkles her nose, and he ignores how adorable it is before she interrupts his train of thought, saying “yeah, but most of the water in New York is disgusting and polluted.” 

He frowns. “You’re unfortunately right about that, but at least the ocean is kinda nice.” 

She shoots him a smile. “You’re not wrong.” 

Ben peers out of the windshield of his car. “Hey,” he sees, pointing. “Look. I think the door to the roof of that place is open. We can see the docks from there.” 

“Sweet,” Devi murmurs, already unbuckling her seatbelt. “Can’t wait to bust some bad guys tonight.” 

She clambers out of the car, already headed towards the door, and Ben rushes to follow her, nearly dropping his keys in his haste to get out of the car. “Hey,  _ partner,” _ he hisses. “Slow down.” 

“Can’t keep up, Gross?” she smirks, already climbing up the stairs. 

Ben just huffs a laugh and shakes his head, following Devi up to the roof. 

“There we go,” she sighs, settling on top of a crate. 

Ben sits next to her, holstering his gun. There’s no reason for him to have it out now—the perps haven’t even arrived here yet. They’re pretty much just on a stakeout for the foreseeable future. 

The next few minutes pass in relative silence, and while silence with Devi is easier than silence with pretty much anyone else, he has never really been that good at being quiet. 

“So,” Ben says, leaning back on his hands. Devi turns to look at him, and his heart flips over in his chest. 

(she should not look just as beautiful with her hair pulled into a ponytail and in a leather jacket and jeans, she should not look that pretty with beat up sneakers but she does and now he doesn’t really know how to stop noticing it) 

“Were you really going to drive my car into a lake?” 

Devi laughs quietly, fingers playing with the sleeves of her jacket. “No,” she admits. She doesn’t look at him, but he watches as her mouth curves into a slight smile. “I was going to drive it.” 

Ben raises his eyebrows, trying not to slip off the crate in shock. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” She throws him a mirthful smirk. “So I could learn how to drive stick.” 

Ben gasps at her, slightly horrified. “You wouldn’t.” 

Devi mimics a gear. “I would.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “You’re cruel, David.” 

She smirks. “Awww, don’t complain too much, Gross. I guess we’ll never know.” She pouts, overdramatically. “And to think, I really wanted that car.” 

Ben cocks his head. “You really wanted to win, didn’t you?” 

Devi holds up the binoculars to her eyes, twisting one lens slowly. “You have no idea,” she murmurs. 

He frowns at her. “Why?” 

Devi sighs, setting down her binoculars and turning to face him. “Grubbs is like, one of my icons, you know?” 

He nods. “Yeah, I get it.” 

She purses her lips. “No, Ben, you don’t—you don’t  _ get _ it. She’s our boss. A black woman. She’s our  _ boss. _ I just—wanted to impress her, I guess. And I thought maybe if I could beat you, she would notice me. I mean,” Devi barks out a laugh, slightly bitter. “Everyone knows she thinks you’re the best detective in the precinct. So, I mean. I wanted to succeed so  _ badly. _ More than I can tell you.” 

“You’re the best detective I know, Devi,” he murmurs, quietly. It is something—something big for him to admit, and if the warm, small smile she gives him means anything, he knows she knows it. “And I’m pretty sure Grubbs knows it too.” 

“Well,” Devi sighs, smoothing her hands over the flyaways framing her face. “It’s ok, anyways. I guess I’ll just have to beat you over and over again.” 

He laughs. “I like a good competition.” 

Devi studies him, like she has never really  _ seen _ him until now. “Why did you want to win?” 

Ben shrugs. “To beat you,” he jokes. 

He looks back to find Devi still staring at him, expectant, and something crawls down his spine, a frisson of cold. “What?” he murmurs, drawing his jacket closer around himself as if to afford himself some warmth—although in the warm summer air, he doesn’t really need it—fingers scraping against the denim, hoping it’ll provide him with some protection. 

Her gaze is piercing, and she doesn’t say anything, except her eyes soften, a little, and even though they are dark in the night, he feels like she can see right down to his soul. “I wanted to prove something to myself,” he finds himself admitting. 

(and it is something he has never thought about revealing, but something about devi always makes him feel safe. it’s moments like these—where they are not quite partners, not quite friends, not quite enemies, that makes him wonder how to define her. she is an enigma)

Devi scoots back on the crate a bit, crossing her legs. “Prove what?” 

Ben scratches at his jaw. “Prove that becoming a cop wasn’t an insane fucking mistake? That it’s not the wrong choice to ignore the dozens of calls my parents leave me, trying to convince me to go back home to LA and become an investment banker or something equally soul sucking.” 

“Oh,” Devi says softly, and he cannot blame her for the shock that punches through her voice. In six minutes, he has told her more about him than he has over six years. “Did you?” 

He shrugs. “Sort of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, beating you is always validating, David,” he smirks, flashing a grin at her to show he’s joking. She rolls her eyes, but gestures for him to continue. “But, I don’t know. I guess part of me is always gonna wonder if I did the right thing. So I just…..want to be the best. Maybe then at least I won’t wonder as much.” 

Devi’s mouth twists into a bitter smile. “I get that.” 

Ben looks at her, like, really looks at her. Her lips are chapped from biting on them all night and she looks more relaxed than he can ever remember seeing her. 

“Sorry the date got cut short,” he says. “I promise, it was going to be  _ terrible.” _

“Oh please,” she snorts. “Nothing is ever going to beat the date I had with my mom’s friend’s son.” 

Ben winces. “Really?” 

“He was an engineer and I think he spent about half the date explaining to me how stoplights worked.” 

He blinks.  _ “Stoplights?” _

“I didn’t ask,” she deadpanned. 

“Nah,” he laughs. “I’ve got you beat on bad dates. The last date I went on, she interrogated me for twenty minutes on whether or not I liked cats.” 

“And?” 

“I do! But she didn’t!” 

Devi snorts. “Where do you even meet these women?” She raises a hand up as he opens his mouth. “Don’t answer that. It’s the car, isn’t it?” 

“You said not to answer,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. 

“You love that car, though,” Devi laughs. 

He looks over at her, and he shouldn’t be able to smell her perfume right now, light, but he can just catch it, and she has got her dark eyes trained on him like she is waiting for him to tell her something. 

(and he would, he realizes, with a start. he would tell her anything she wanted, would tell her everything as long she never stops looking at him like that, like she is searching for something in him. he would split open his soul and tell her all of his secrets—even ones he does not know he has—if she would never leave) 

“I love it.” 

Devi looks over at it, where she can just see where it’s parked on the street. “Doesn’t that thing break down on you like thirty times a day? Why do you love it so much? And keep it?” 

He smirks at her. “Besides the fact that it’s a certified chick magnet?” 

He just manages to dodge the punch, laughing, and Devi rolls her eyes. “Tell me the truth, you dick.” 

Ben’s still chuckling as he glances in the direction of the car. “I—I don’t know. It’s the first thing I bought with my own money, you know?” 

“What?” 

He runs his hand through his hair. “I mean—you know my family’s rich.” 

“Loaded,” she corrects, a small smile on her face. 

“Yeah,” he sees, an unexpected spark of pleasure igniting in his stomach at the fact that she had remembered what he told her a whole year ago. “Loaded. But I’ve never really—had anything that was mine before, you know? Everything was bought with my parents’ money. So, it had been a few months since I started working as a rookie on the beat, and I had just gotten my first collar, and when I was putting the cuffs on him, I looked, and I saw this car. So I bought it. With my own money. And yeah, it’s a hunk of junk, but—” 

“It’s yours.” 

He glances over at her to see her smiling at him, genuine and quiet. “Yeah.” 

They fall into silence for a bit, before he hears something crumple, and then Devi’s pulling something out of her jacket pocket. “Here,” she says, offering him it. 

Ben glances at it. “Skittles?” 

Devi shakes the bag. “Are you gonna take any? Cause if not, I’ll just eat the whole thing by myself.” 

He scowls at her. “Don’t take all of them.” He holds his hand out, cupped, and Devi tips the bag, shaking out a few Skittles into his hand. 

Ben tosses them into his mouth, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Devi throwing the Skittles into the air and trying to catch them in her mouth. 

“Are you five, David?” he smirks. 

“I’m bored as fuck,” she says, kicking him.

Ben rolls his eyes. “Well, if you’re gonna do that, you might as well do it properly.” 

She pauses in her efforts and swivels around to give him a dirty look. “What?” 

“Here,” he says, turning to face her. “Catch.” 

He throws a Skittle at her, and she tries to catch it, but it just bounces off of her nose and clatters onto the roof.

Ben snorts, and Devi bites her lip, holding back a smile. “How about you?” she challenges. 

He spreads his hands, perhaps a bit overconfident, but enjoying himself anyways. “Try it.” 

Ben catches the one she lobs at him and quirks an eyebrow at Devi, as she crosses her arms and pouts at him. “How?” 

“Eleanor and I get  _ really _ bored on stakeouts,” he laughs. “I’m pretty sure she’s beaten me in the long run.” 

Devi snorts. “Nice.” She looks down at the bag in her hand and tosses another one at him, which he just barely manages to catch. “Why don’t we ever do this kind of stuff?” 

Ben blinks at her, taken aback by her question. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…..” she says, trailing off helplessly, gesturing around them. “I think this is like, the first stakeout where we haven’t been arguing the whole time.” 

“Are you saying arguing with me  _ doesn’t _ help pass the time, David? I’m offended, I thought we had pretty witty banter.” 

Devi kicks him again, just a gentle knock of her foot against his shin, but she’s smiling as she’s rolling her eyes. “No, you dumbass. I mean like—this. Being friendly and everything.” 

He stares at her, suddenly at a loss for words. “Uh, I don’t—I don’t know.” 

(because suddenly, six years of antagonism and sniping and pointed remarks have no meaning. there doesn’t seem to be any  _ reason _ behind his treatment of her—or her treatment of his. he and devi are more similar than they are different—and ben is not exactly sure how to handle this—this new dynamic they find themselves scaling the wall of) 

Devi frowns at him. “You’re my partner, Ben,” she says, softly, and although he has to strain to hear the words, they strike him in the gut all the same. “Aren’t we supposed to trust each other?” 

Suddenly his mouth is dry and his hands shake, and he shoves them in his pockets so she will not see how he is trembling at her question—and tries to gather his thoughts. 

“I  _ do _ trust you, Devi.” He traces his tongue over his lips, and risks a glance at her—and it is like looking at a sunset—or a sunrise, for that matter—like looking at something beautiful and perilous all at the same time. It is like standing behind a stone railing and facing the sea, hearing the waves smash against the rocks, but being unable to see them. Something enticing, that you cannot stop looking at. An enormity of being. 

“I—” he begins, but she sighs and stops him. 

“Sorry. I know we’ve never really—had that kind of relationship.” She smiles wryly, twisting her lips, but her eyes, brown brown brown, shine with warmth. “I trust you too, Ben.” 

He offers her a weak smile back, even if the words are welcome. “I guess I just—didn’t really stop to consider how much of a team we were. You were my partner but—not—not really.” 

Devi nods, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Same here.” 

He looks at her, watches her blink, watches her eyelashes brush against her cheek and brow bone, dark, and they are so long he can see the shadows of them dance across her face in the disgusting fluorescent light. “No matter what, though,” he says, quiet, as if they have strung something sacred between them, woven with secrets and admissions under the moon and fluorescence, luminous strings, “you’re still my partner.” 

She reaches up to brush a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and he watches her, hypnotized by the easy, graceful way she moves. The sleeve of her jacket slips down her arm, just a little bit, and he catches a glimpse of the dark tattoo inked onto the skin of her wrist—the one she had gotten three years after they had started working—and he doesn’t know what the numbers are for, but he has longed to ask, longs to know everything about her—and Devi smiles at him. “You know I’ve always got your back, right, Ben?” 

(the words knock into him, strike into his heart like an asteroid striking the earth, leaving a crater, a scar on a continent—and he thinks, in a way, not all scars need to be bad) 

But he has never been very good with this, so he searches for the right words to say, like children search for fireflies on August nights, and takes the easy way out. 

“Don’t go getting soft on me now, David.” 

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, and her laugh is almost harsh, in a way, but not quite. “Oh, I’m not.” She winks at him, suddenly playful. “I just don’t think anyone else could put up with how much of a jackass you are. They’d be tempted to use you for target practice.” 

“How many times have you been tempted?” 

“Are we talking today, or just in general? Cause I’m not sure you can count that high.” 

He laughs. “Today.” 

“Only seventeen times or so.” She smirks. “Record low, to be honest.” 

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’ve worn you down, David? I’m flattered.” 

Devi’s mouth drops open slightly, still a bit red from her lipstick, and she blinks at him, speechless for the first time he can remember since meeting her. “Um—well—” 

Luckily for her (or unluckily, depending on how he wishes to look at it) his phone rings then, and he pulls it out to see Grubbs calling him. 

“Oh, it’s the captain.” 

“Take it,” Devi says. “I’m going to perfect my skills, in the meantime.” 

Ben rolls his eyes at her and just manages to avoid tripping over her foot when she sticks it out, smirking at her as he raises the phone to his ear. 

“Captain.” 

“Gross,” she says. “I’ve got someone from the night shift willing to take over. Do you want the relief team to come in?” 

Ben twists his wrist around and glances at his Rolex. “Oh, we still might be able to make it to Central Park,” he mutters. 

“Ben?” 

He jerks back to reality, the captain’s voice ringing in his ear. “Sorry, what was that, captain?” 

“Can you give me an answer? Should the relief team come in?” 

Ben chews his lip, sparing a glance back at Devi, watching as she tosses up another Skittle, trying to catch it, and a smile ghosts across his lips. “You know what, captain? Hold off on the relief team. We’re—we’re already here. And I think we’ve got this.” 

“Your choice,” Grubbs says, and clicks off. 

Ben tucks his phone back into his pocket and walks back over to Devi. She glances up at him, smug. “I’ve got it.” 

“Let’s see it,” he smirks, sitting back down on his crate. 

Devi smirks and pours the rest of the Skittles into her palm, and then tosses them all up. He bursts out laughing as they drop onto her face, and then scatter on the roof. “Volume,” she smirks. 

“Very impressive,” he drawls. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Glad to see—” 

The rest of his sentence is broken off by the sound of a truck pulling into the dock, and Devi hisses at him to shut up—not exactly a novelty—and crouches down, tugging him down with her. 

“They’re here,” she whispers. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” she mutters. “How are we gonna take them down?” 

Ben chews the inside of his lip, an idea coming to him slowly. “You just said you trusted me, right?” 

Devi stares at him. “I’m gonna regret saying that, aren’t I?”

“Probably,” he agrees. “Give me the ring.” 

She sighs, pulling the ring off of her finger and placing it in his hand. For a split second, his fingers curl around hers—and their eyes meet and something static crackles in the air between them, almost alive—and then she pulls her hand out of his. “Let’s go catch some criminals.” 

* * *

Devi peeks at Ben out of the corner of his eye as they make their way towards the criminals. He’s explained the plan to her, and yet her heart still hammers in her chest, adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

She doesn’t let herself think about how he almost seems—to glow, really, in the light, because then they are coming up on the perps and she is throwing herself into what she does best—her job. 

“Excuse me,” Ben says, a charming smile crossing his face, and she marvels for a second at how easily he slips into another persona, like slipping on a warm winter coat, before she sets her jaw and crosses her arms.

The perp freezes and stares at them, and god, this is just a little too easy, but considering the other guy is still messing with the back of the truck and she can’t see both his hands, she decides to give it another moment. “We’re—kind of busy here,” he says. 

“Sorry to bother you,” Ben says easily, “but my girlfriend here thinks we’re lost.” 

“I don’t  _ think _ we’re lost,” she snaps at him. “I  _ know _ we’re lost. You’re just an idiot.” 

“An idiot?” Ben splutters, turning to face her. “Why the hell do you think we’re out here in the middle of the fucking night?” He pulls the ring from his pocket—cheap plastic—and holds it up. “I was gonna propose to you at Madison Square Park, where we met.” 

_“Madison_ Square Park? We met at _Washington_ Square Park!” 

Ben scoffs, his eyes almost hard in the light. “Fine. You know what? Say goodbye to this. And everything this represents!” 

“Oh right, like I’m losing so much.” 

“Forget it!” he says, tossing the ring behind them just as the second perp approaches them, clearly nervous about all the noise they’re making, and she locks eyes with Ben, seeing the shadow of a smile cross his face. 

“How about we just calm down?” one of the guys says, just as she reaches for her gun. 

“You know what?” Devi says, turning back. “No, on the ground!” 

They drop to their knees instantly when she points her gun at them, and Ben flashes her a smile, sending something warm pooling in the pit of her stomach. “Nice job.” 

“Back at you,” she says, breathing heavily, his praise singing in her veins. 

“You know, even if y’all are arresting me, you guys actually make a good couple,” one of the perps remarks. “I’m glad you were just pretending to break up.” 

“Oh, shut up!” she hisses, feeling her face flush red. “Come on, move it.” 

Ben’s ears are tinged red when she glances at him, but the smile still lingers on his lips, and despite this night turning out—not at all how she thought it would when she first started it, she finds she can’t exactly complain.

* * *

Devi clasps her hands nervously, as Grubbs marks something down on her paper, shifting up and down, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Stop that, Vishwakumar,” her captain says sharply.

“S—sorry, ma’am,” Devi says, even more nervous than before. Uncertainty coils up in the pit of her stomach. Was there something wrong? 

In all honesty, she’d thought the bust had gone spectacularly well. They’d collared and booked the perps with no resistance, and she and Ben had managed to track down their supplier—some white dude living in a shoebox apartment in the Bronx—and she’d just gotten a call from a detective in a Bronx precinct saying they had arrested him. 

And after they’d put their collars into the holding cell, she had been graced with another warm—that’s really the only way, she is learning, to describe his smiles, impossibly warm—smile from Ben as she had left, and then, lying in her bed later that night, she had stared at the ceiling and thought about the firm feeling of his arm underneath her palm, the echo of his laugh in her ears, before she had closed her eyes and put it out of her mind so she could sleep. 

So she really didn’t know why Grubbs had called her into her office. She chews her cheek, nervous, when Grubbs puts down her pen and folds her hands, peering at Devi. “Excellent job on the bust last night.” 

Heat floods her body, and Devi feels as though it’s all been worth it to hear those words from her superior, to see the small smile cross her boss’s face. “Thank you, Captain.” 

“You’re welcome,” Grubbs says sharply. “It’s nice to see that despite that ridiculous bet you two have you’re still an excellent team.” 

Devi’s smile grows wider. “Thanks.” 

Grubbs nods. “Good job on holding off on the relief team, by the way. I doubt that could have made that bust.” 

Devi blinks for a second, momentarily confused, before she gathers herself enough to say, “no problem, Captain.” 

Grubbs nods her head towards the door. “Dismissed.” 

She walks out of the office almost in a daze, stopping when she sees Ben, head bent over his desk, and her stomach flutters. 

Had he—he turned down the relief team because of her? Because he had liked spending time with her, because he didn’t want their night to end quicker than it needed to? Or was she just reading into nothing? 

Devi warns herself not to get her hopes up. The most likely possibility—really, the  _ only _ possibility—is that Ben knew who was on the relief team and he knew they wouldn’t have been capable of the arrest they pulled off last night. That’s probably what happened, and she shouldn’t get her hopes up for anything else. 

Still, her heart twists in her chest as she approaches him, and she wishes she could know what was going on in his brain. 

“So,” she says, smirking and leaning back in her chair. “Having your night interrupted by work? New addition for your bad date list.” 

“Nah,” Ben says, not even looking up from his paperwork, handwriting annoyingly meticulous as he makes a note on one of the forms. “It still goes on the good date list.” 

Devi’s stomach explodes, gossamer butterfly wings brushing her insides, and she thanks every god out there—Yahweh, Jesus, Saraswati, Allah—that his face is still turned towards his paperwork so he cannot see how flushed she is right now. 

“You know,” he says, turning his face to her, “cause we caught the bad guys.” 

Devi tempers down the disappointment that wells up in her like the tide—why the fuck does she even feel disappointment? what the hell is wrong with her?—at his words, and smirks. “Makes sense.” 

Ben smiles at her, and god, the way he smiles feels like everything she has been searching for her whole life. 

(his smile is like the hearth she has been searching for—like the home she aches to live in, like everything good and bright and right with the world—like the heart of a fire—and she turns to it like sunflowers turn to the sun, drawn by some force she herself cannot explain) 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Good date.” 

Her breath catches in her throat, and suddenly she is overcome with the want—the need, if she is being truly honest with herself—to cup his jaw in her palms and brush her fingers over the dip above his lip and to study his face until she has gotten her fill of looking at him. To understand him the same way she understands herself, down to the bone and constant. 

To kiss his lips and breathe him in, into her lungs, to know him. 

And then she blinks and pulls herself back to reality, lets her gaze slip from his and back down to her desk. Momentary lapse of judgement. Insanity, perhaps, for her to think about her partner like this. And—and even if she really  _ did _ feel this way, there’s no way he feels the same way back. But she doesn’t even feel like that. She’s just losing her mind. Because she has never even thought about Ben in—in a very positive way before, let alone like—like  _ this. _

“Well,” she says, speaking to her desk so she does not have to face the full force of his gaze, blue as the Aegean Sea, “it was inevitable, really. My presence always makes things better.” 

Ben barks out a laugh, and she can’t resist glancing up from her desk, peering at him through her lashes, and giving him a smirk. “You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?” 

She lobs a pen at him. “And rightfully so.” 

He just grins at her, crossing his arms, and her gaze lingers on his hands, warm and strong, and she wonders—

“Well,” Ben says, derailing her train of thought—thankfully—“whatever you need to tell yourself to deal with the fact that you’ve lost.” 

Devi just sticks her tongue out at him, throwing another pen at him, which he dodges as he gets up, laughing at her, and she bites her lip as he walks away, casting her gaze down to her desk, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She knew that—this stupid bet, this ridiculous date, this night would change their dynamic forever. She just didn’t really expect it to change in this way. But it’s ok. She’ll get over it. It’s just a momentary feeling. 

And something good  _ did _ come out of it. Ben’s now—he is more like a friend, than anything. More her partner than he has ever been, really. 

(she should not want to kiss him, because he’s her friend and her partner and  _ ben, _ she really, really should not want to kiss him. and if only telling herself that would temper the fact that she does) 

Devi looks over at him, and allows herself one more smile before turning her attention back to her work. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you like this crackheaded bullshit then uh good for you i'm glad you did. come scream with me about both shows on my tumblr: @[parkersedith](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)


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